The Crimson Throat's thrust was true, and a leaf of silver-inlaid bronze stabbed through hideous assassin's upper shoulder. A great burst of multicolored ichor, filled with nauseating chunks of congealed rotten blood, splattered out upon the wooden floor; the close, dense air was filled with the sickly-sweet stench of putrefying flesh.

"Tooth and nail!" Jjuldae cried, in the strange, alien syllables of the secret druid tongue.

A massive roar shook the flimsy walls of the rickety inn as the White Wolf found itself assailed by from different points by the other members of the druid's party, each point of assault hammered into its decaying body with ruthless force as the adventurers converged on it with the savage anticipation of a wolf pack eager to bring down the prey with its combined efforts. First the slash in its upper-thigh that caused it to falter in its bound mid-way and collapse to the floor in a snarling mass of fur, and then the vicious spear-thrust from behind. Driven by the fear of imminent death, Jjuldae had recovered enough of his strength to and retaliate with a hefty stab into its right shoulder. Unleashing an eerie howl as its rotting flesh was ripped free of its white shoulder, the beast's raging fury drew strength from the agony coursing through its bleeding frame like a river of fire. As the traitor screamed aloud in the language his tainted tongue was not fit to speak, the White Wolf realized in a fleeting moment of clarity what it had to do.

''Scream then as they both rend your body from limb to limb!'' With a single fluid movement of its paw, the White Wolf grasped the shaft of the spear sticking incongrously out of its shoulder, and unleashed all its considerable strength onto the wooden haft directly above that cruel tip lodged in its flesh.

It was a clean snap as the wooden frame simply crumbled in the masssive paws of Jjuldae's assailant. Sturdy thought the spear had been , there was simply no haft in existence that could withstand the inhumane power of the White Wolf. But there was more to this creature that brute strength alone. Any beast of prey roaming the forest easily possesses strength and natural weapons that would by themsleves, be sufficient to fell most humans. But the White Wolf was more than a mere animal. Its crazed drive to kill and maim was agumented by the grim cunning that can exist only in the mind of a human hunter or warrior. As if to demonstrate the former identity the beast had once possessed, the paw clutching the broken spear haft lashed out at the druid's legs, striking at them with every ounce of strength the massive thews on the White Wolf could muster. Then, dropping its improvised weapon, it lunged with renewed vigour at the druid, its claws aiming straight for his face as it sought to drive them into his eyes.

« Last Edit: November 23, 2006, 11:41:02 PM by Maggot »

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

As the albino Wolf snapped Jjuldae’s spear with a loud crack, another projectile slammed into the beast’s flesh just beneath its shoulder. A thick dart, traveling at great speed, buried itself deep inside the Wolf. That wound went together with a thigh strike from some cursed, silver sickle, wielded by some silent, able warrior, who was now wisely back-pedaling.

It felt pain, but knew that soon the damage would heal. It felt no cursed, poisonous silver in the dart’s point, unlike the druid’s spear and the warrior’s sickle, which had sent waves of pain and nausea through the creature’s body.

Only seconds earlier, the creature had smashed the crossbow from Vee’s grip, and sent the rogue careening across the floor, albeit in a dexterous spin, landing Keykold safely against a far wall, for the moment. The rogue surveyed the chaotic blood sport.

For the time being, the White Wolf returned its glare to Jjuldae, though it noticed the huge behemoth that had buried his dart in its flesh. The half-ogre now whooped and hollered, seemingly deciding between another steel dart, and the gruesome axe in its other meaty paw. No fear that one, the White Wolf allowed himself to muse.

Vorodon’s eyes searched the taproom for Maegla as he prepared to attack this raging beast once more. He spied the blind woman. She was hiding beneath a table not far from Vee, who was $%@#ing his crossbow once more, after retrieving the unbroken weapon from the spot on the floor, where it had landed, after the White Wolf sent it, and Vee, sprawling. Maegla was safe, Vorodon ascertained, and turned towards the abomination once more.

Kadarin made his way down the stairs and arrived just in time to notice the somewhat recovered Dujek, twisting his hands and wrists in passionate animation, while chanting gruesome words of Arcana.

The White Wolf suddenly felt its own joints and bones begin to lock up. What was this treacherous sorcery, it thought, the accursed druid had too many friends! But no matter it snarled, the Old Ones had given it this opportunity at retribution, and would protect their assassin from harm, at least long enough for the self-proclaimed, “Last Scion” to destroy the traitor.

The White Wolf lunged at Jjuldae once more, tearing bloody stripes across the druid’s thigh, then neck and face. The druid staggered and fell back. Momentarily, the White Wolf leered at the druid, savoring its upcoming deathblow. Jjuldae looked on defiantly, bleeding profusely from his shredded neck and face. His dark vulture-eyes still staring back at his nemesis.

As the abomination was about to tear the druid limb from limb, the charging Glordren came on like a runaway wagon, barreling directly into the monstrosity, while bellowing a dwarven battle cry at the top of his lungs. This one, haphazard attack, finally caught the beast by surprise, and both dwarf and werewolf collapsed from the charge, the dwarf ably positioning himself to mount the wolf. For a moment, the monster was down, sprawled on its back from the force of the tackle, pinned by the bulbous, but surprisingly nimble priest. Glordren reared his fearsome mace, as his rock-like knees momentarily pinned the lycanthrope's arms to the floor. Sitting astride its chest, the dwarf was about to mash the Wolf’s face!

For the first time since it had brazenly assaulted the druid, by smashing through the window of the Harpy’s Kettle, the Great One’s assassin felt a strange sensation…fear.

Though it was not aware of the doppelganger’s existence, like Veitch, the White Wolf had underestimated the druid’s new cadre of companions.

No matter, it thought again, as it struggled, bleeding from multiple wounds, pinned for the moment against the mass of the mailed dwarf, now sitting on its furry chest. Though it did not like the taste of dwarven flesh, it would now tear this meaty barrel to shreds. It would teach the Traitor’s allies a lesson. Ultimate victory would be HIS, the White Wolf thought. It had to be, for thus it was decreed. “Tooth and Nail” it intoned once more, through its bloody, slavering jaws. The beast looked up at Glordren and seethed, its thick, corded muscles, rippling beneath its milky, bloodstained fur. The dwarf would pay the price…then, Jjuldae would die.

As the creature was about to rend its claws through both mail and flesh, its limbs froze, defying the Master’s will. The beast felt its joints, tighten, its sinew congeal, and abruptly, its spine constrict. It was paralyzed, it realized in horror, its fur rising in fear!

Just then, all went black as the dwarf’s mace smashed bone and cartilage in a brutal downward strike. This too would heal, was the Lycanthrope’s last thought, before it spun into unconsciousness, there was no silver venom in the dwarf’s weapon.

“THRROOSH!” came the sound of Glordren’s mace once more, smashing the White Wolf’s snout into further pulp and paste, sending meat and blood in a tumultuous spray across the taproom. Glordren could feel no more resistance from the gory corpse.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

Aerex lunged fearlessly, his blade hitting home, sinking into the already charred and softened flesh just below Veitch’s throat. The doppelganger Aerex gurgled up purplish blood, and turned to flee down the darkened, long, narrow alley.

For the first time that night, Veitch regretted killing that bounty hunter and not only taking on his identity, but foolishly, out of boredom, his mission as well.

Killing a necromancer sounded like fun, and then Veitch, still disguised as that bounty hunter--what was his name anyway--would return to Thorp Tareholt, and even get some coin from the ugly, pink-skinned peasants.

But now, Veitch felt his life force slipping away. And the pain, the pain was mind-numbing. Still, the doppelganger ran. After a few steps, Veitch even entertained the notion that he would escape successfully. All he had to do after all was outrun and out slink this short, brazen human, whose countenance Veitch had assumed and taken, while hurtling through its dimension door spell, the stubborn man, clinging to its waist.

Escape successfully Veitch would not however. A shearing steel fan sliced through the back and top of the doppelganger’s skull as it ran, and suddenly the creature felt itself falling forwards, with the peculiar sensation of cold air caressing its exposed brain tissue.

“My mother loved me”, Veitch thought as it died.

Aerex turned to see Talia had just stepped through the now vanishing and fluttering portal to join him in the twisted alleyway. The look on her face was one of resigned satisfaction, as the Bladedancer strode to retrieve her fan, which was now lodged in the fallen Veitch’s skull.

Aerex blinked and looked around. No one was about. Qil’Vanaros’ Endless Dream Journey was in full swing beneath the starry sky on the other side of the walls. Aerex could hear the sounds of mirth and detect the pungent smells coming from the carnival, and wafting through Ganse' empty streets. The celebration ringed the sorrowful town of Ganse, and was now entertaining its populace, leaving the town streets even more empty and forlorn than usual. That would explain where the cityguard were as well, Aerex reasoned, though he was sure, the escaping patrons of the Harpy’s Kettle would have soon run amok around the carnival grounds and delivered the latest news.

“Werewolves and Lightning Strike the Kettle!”

A slight night wind picked up and strained at the inspector’s hat. Aerex watched as the same breeze rifled through the warrior-maiden’s luxurious silver and platinum mane, as she bent to fetch her weapon from Veitch’s corpse.

Talia mumbled something about the creature’s shape-changing abilities proving useless after its face and body were charred by Kadarin’s terrifying magic. Aerex nodded. Even in the darkness she was beautiful, the inspector found himself thinking. Where did that come from?, he scolded himself.

But she was...beautiful that is, he thought again, even as she wrenched her steel fan from what was seemingly his own skull, he allowed himself a smile. Was that a bad omen?

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

Wow, I'm glad I'm not that creature though Kadarin as the dwarf literally beat the creatures's head to a pulp.

Remembering the discussions during his Alchemy training at the acadamy, Kadarin realized that there was an opportunity here. Werewolves were powerful figures in Alchemy - their ability to transform forms related to that most sought after secret of alchemy - that of transforming base metals to gold! Mercury and Fire, the Moon and Silver, thought Kadarin.

Walking over to take a look at the grotesque beast, he reached into his robe and brought out a small vial. Ignoring the aghast looks of some of the onlookers, he scooped up some of the beast's ichor into the vial. He then moved over to an undamaged table and used a candle to drip hot wax over the end of the vial. Just before the wax completely hardened, he sprinkled a tiny amount of powdered silver into the soft wax. That done, he secreted the vial back into one of the concealed pockets in his robe.

Thankfully the slavering beast was brought to a halt, the dwarf ending it's rampage with a skull destroying strike from his mace. The thing had certainly seemed confident in it's abilities and had shown no fear even when facing a large number of foes. Seeing a real werewolf now brought a certain level of recognition to the rogue, and Agion's Silver Clockwork Warbeast now showed it's source. Despite the hisses of steam, the ting and tick of cogs and springs, his design was a werewolf of k'tonian metal, silver, and steel. Clever, that one was.

Vee checked himself, no ribs broken, and it seemed that aside from the Kettle being ruined again, no one was walking through the final arch. That was always good. He chided himself for being foolish, expecting all foes to make certain mistakes, but then he remembered that he started the battle asleep under a table in a barroom. He would later have to find...whoever...was with him and make sure she was okay, it was the 'right' thing to do.

And as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The huge dwarf barreled into the werewolf and soon smashed it's head into a pulp, and before long, Kadarin had found his way next to the corpse and had scooped up a vial of goo. Moruz was not yet satisfied, however, and he stood next to the corpse, resting a boot on the side of it's smashed face to brace it, and he began the laborous task of hacking away at its tough, sinewy neck with his sickle. His expression would have been no different than if he was chopping away at tree roots with an axe, and when the moist 'thud' of the sickle was heard hitting the wooden floor beneath the flesh of the beast, Moruz rose and pushed the mushed head with his boot, rolling it several feet away to lay just before the dying coals of the fire; the gruesome visage of the half-crushed face of the wolf illuminated by the flickering light. Moruz turned his upper lip up in distate - not at the sight of the wolfman's corpse, but rather at the goo and blood covering his new sickle, his hand, and half his arm - not to mention the occasional splatter on the rest of his body.Not a word was said to the others in the room of the motive of his actions, but Moruz knew the tendancy of these creatures not to die; he had not killed one before, but they weren't unknown to the Ouzquin Dremorix. Looping the still blood-and-gore encrusted sickle to his belt, he made his way over to Jjuldae and knelt over the man, using his clean(ish) left hand to press against the wound on his neck in efforts to stanch the bleeding whilst muttering - half to himself, "You outsiders and your conflicts will be the death of me."

He swallowed and looked down, gaining his head again. "d**n," he cursed, looking at the charred, broken body of his double. "I should have tried to pin it or something. We need to know who it worked for." He wiped his bloodied blade on the doppelganger's tunic, one that matched his own, before placing it safely in his boot sheath. He looked up at Talia. His beauty struck her again, but now his head was level. There was business to attend to. "C'mon, let's see if the others are alright."

"Yes." She nodded as she cleaned her fan off, then tucked it into her belt. "I heard some crashing around downstairs." Jumping heedlessly through a magic portal like that had left her a tiny bit shaken. It wasn't something she'd repeat. "Maybe he told the others who sent him, before we made it up there." She glanced sideways at Aerex. He looked a little... off. "You're okay, right? Not hurt?" She didn't *think* the doppleganger had had any time to attack...

Jjuldae stared down at the splattered shards of the White Wolf's head, it's jaw lying in several pieces across the floor. Glordren panted atop its body, torn open across its measure. The druid spat blood out on the floor, and reflected that none should ever depend on the Old Ones for certainty or constancy, least of all their servants.

He looked up at the ceiling, and then around at the wide collection of adventurers now gathered here- the Company of the Treasured Chest, the Adventurers-on-Return."My thanks," he rasped, and collapsed with a heavy thud to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

"If mister wizard is done collecting ingredients for the next drink, we should clean up the mess we... nah, it ... made. Everyone alive?" Disgustedly, Glordren kicked the form sprawled amongst its own ichor and purulent blood. "Consider your life confiscated, creep" he teased the critter, and added, to his companions: "Toss the thing into the fire and pour oil on it, big time. The holy sun may burn the undead, but the fire burns all. "Ah" he noted, picking up the two larges canines from amongst the mess he made, "I be keeping those, burn the rest, will you?"

Worrying about the outcome of the fight outside, he rushed there, to discover one Aerex lying stretched out in the street, his disguise quickly fading to reveal a sickening grey creature with huge bug-eyes. "So, you got the right one, girlie?" he noted as Talia withdrew her fan from the thing's skull.

"By Emrissa, can't it be goblins, for once?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

The battle seemed to have ended, but what had happened here was still a mystery to Vorodon. Why had these strange creatures attacked them?

As he painfully tried to puzzle out these mysteries, Vorodon bent to retrieve his dart from the dead thing’s flesh and wipe the blood and gore from its bright iron head. Returning his weapon to its quiver, the warrior wished that he had more time. He would have preferred to properly deal with his foes’ remains, but the Guard would be arriving at any moment, and he had to ensure that Maegla was safely out of sight.

Helping the woman from where she had sought cover beneath a table, he lurched outside to where Talia had gone to battle the visage stealer. He had planned to rest at the inn before seeking to shelter Maegla among the traveling folk that had come to the town, but there was no longer any safety to be found there. Soon, half the guardsmen in town would descend upon the place, so there was no way that she could be hidden there.

Talia seemed a bit uncertain, perhaps disoriented from her passage through the magical portal. "Uh... well, I have a friend in the carnival, she could take care of her, I guess"

In a quick, if garbled, discussion, Vorodon was able to discover that Talia had a friend named Loiha among the carnival folk, who might be able to help. He hated to drag Maegla across town yet again, but it seemed the best solution.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," Aerex stammered, placing Veitch's rings into his pocket. The portal threw him off a bit. He looked at the bloodied scene around him. "They're gonna kick us out of this place before long," he muttered wryly. The constable was about to comment on the lycanthrope's corpse, but Vorodon's pleading with Talia caught his attention. That bastard lieutenant is still around, he reminded himself. For not the first time, he felt torn about what to do with corrupt police. It was unlikely Farax would cause any more harm with Maegla safe in the hands of the gypsies, but there was no telling who else was under his thumb. Jorgan's words echoed in his mind: "What are you gonna do about it?" Aerex's eyes narrowed. Something, Jorgan.

Aerex ran to the door to catch Vorodon. "My friend, Maegla might be safe with the gypsies, but this town isn't safe with the lieutenant still corrupt," he explained in a low voice. He placed his hand on Vorodon's shoulder and turned him away from the door, standing a few feet from the entrance as the constable prepared a plan.

Dujek stopped his incantations as the dwarf finished smshing the thing's head in, and watched Kadarin methodically collect the bloody ichor of the thing. Leaning back against the wall, trying not to fall back into his oh so wonderful slumber, Dujek watched with a clinical eye as Moruz chopped off what remained of the twice-dead thing's head and shoved it into the fire. Starting towards the stairs, and his now ruined room, he heard the druid hit the floor.

Turning and jogging over to his body, Dujek tried to staunch the flow of blood out of this newest wounded in their week-long bout.Hey Koschei, is it just me, or do we have some sort of baddie bounty on our heads? I mean, I can understand the bandits, but then those halfling ghouls attacked us, and we've been back in town what, two days, and already I've gotten attacked by a changling, and the poor poor tavern's wrecked, yet again, by a wandering monster?

Looking at the entrance he caught snippets of the conversation going on, something about the lady standing by the orge and the guard. Dujek found it a bit hard to believe that anyone that looked as innocent as her could do anything to get on the bad side of these guards, but weirder things have happened.

"So, when you guys figure out who's doing what, one of you should probably find someone to look after our wounded. I don't think Tristan's doing too well, and this guy ain't gonna be wrestling anymore wolfmen anytime soon."

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

When Vorodon gave his response, Aerex nodded, hoping he properly understood the gentle brute's words. "Good, good," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't sleep tonight. I'll come get you a few hours after we settle everyone in." The constable glanced around to make sure no one heard him and walked back into the inn.

The lycanthrope corpse was already beginning to stink, and the bird-like man was lying prone on the floor with Dujek over him. The guards were likely to be here soon, and Aerex would be the best one to file a report. Might as well start gathering info, he thought. He knelt down beside Jjuldae and Dujek. "Any idea why that thing was after you?" he asked the necromancer. "Village mobs don't normally hire doppelganger demons to hunt down their outcasts." He looked down at the injured druid. "Think it had anything to do with this guy and the lycanthrope?"

"Hmmm. He spoke thus - of an abomination in the woods that is his bane" Glordren mused, leaning over passed-out Jjudae, "I underestimated it back then, deeming it to be one of 'those' travesties against nature that the Elves and all sorts of nature-nuts get worked up about. Fell a few trees, and pop go their nerves."

Kicking the dead thing once more, he added: "A lesson I learnt - even a nut may be right... but still remain a nut." Kneeling by the wounded, Glordren fished a prayer-coin out of his robe, eight-sided and polished with special varnish to a surreal sheen. It was his pet coin, the spirit within pleasant and talkative. Fondling it, he touched the wounded priest and druid, adding: "O Lady mine, those two have not spent all the coin they should have, their life's price has not been paid. Please grant them some of the small change of vigor you have around your pockets!"

Gleaming dust settled over Tristan and Jjudae, evaporating in tiny sparkles and a tinkle of diminutive bells. Emrissa did many things just for the effect, but that was her style.Leaving a soft afterglow, a rosy hue returned to Tristan's cheeks, and Jjudae could draw breath easier.

This done, Glordren faced Aerex again. Tapping his foot against the blood-stained floor he inquired: "What need be done about the lieutenant? Can one walk law's path in a place bereft of justice? Or must it be forged anew with steel and fire?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

"Village mobs don't normally hire much, but when the mob splits up, it's hunger for blood unfilled, men do. Though I doubt anyone that I've angered would have the means to hire more than just a bounty hunter." Looking at the druid and the werewolf briefly, "And, no. I don't know him, and try to make it a habit of getting hunted by the smallest amounts of monstrosities as possible."

"Did he, by any chance, say who hired him?"

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

Aerex shook his head. "No, he died before I could get anything out of him. I had hoped you knew, but no matter." He rubbed his chin as he looked over Jjuldae, Glorden's prayer sending a glimmering shower over them. "I suppose the werewolf was just an unfortunate coincidence."

He looked up at Glorden as he spoke. I like this one, he thought to himself. The dwarf cut through airs and suppositions to get straight at the matter. There was no need to drag another into this, however. "I greatly appreciate your concern, Sir Blarchtmir. I have plans for this situation, however. Rest assured that justice will be done."

"Rest?" Glordren laughed heartily, heaving like a restless mountain. "Humans need rest. I'd crumble with shame if I let a thief run an once-glorious mining town, this very (pointing to his beard agitatedly) hair would fall out because it would not want to have anything to do with me. Rest he says. Bollocks!" Poking the inspector's shoulder, the dwarf tasked him: "You seem like a smart chap, think up a plan."

Looking at the rest of the werewolf, Glordren added: "Let's burn it all - after all it's wild game caught outside any lord's private woods, so we have the right to deal with it as we see fit, and are answerable to noone for that. It stinks up the place and people's minds too." With that, he grabbed a cleaver from the itchen and chopped at the thing to produce burnable pieces.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

The vulture-man would be fine, it seemed. Moruz stood from his position next to Jjuldae and glanced between the group as they traded words about plans. The glass shifter sighed faintly - let them worry about what to do - Moruz simply wanted to get some sleep. But first, there was the small matter of gore to wash off himself. The warrior left the Harpy's kettle just as the first 'thunk's of Glordren's cleaver sounded against the limbs of the slain creature.A quick search of the outer area of the Harpy's kettle found a barrel half-filled with murky water, and Moruz set to cleaning himself, washing off the slime and blood from his skin, and trying his best to remove the worse stains on his clothing. Ten minutes later and Moruz was as clean as he was going to get this night, and rather than head back to his bed inside the building, he simply sat beneath the eaves, next to the bucket of water and wrapped his cloak about him. The Ouzquin Dremorix cast his gaze to the skies - a dance of clouds and starlight filtering through from above - and uttered softly to himself, "Axtrami haiq Shirin... Ix'Moruz naikt Varis Dankra!" Back resting against the wall, Moruz closed his eyes, and tried once more to catch some sleep.

As Talia snuck Maegla out of town and into the swarming chaos of the surrounding carnival, lights, sounds, and smells assaulted the two women. The celebration was in full swing, as the word had spread, the Endless Dream Caravan was leaving in the morning, packing up their stalls, cages, arenas and attractions, and returning east, into the fog-shrouded Hills of Holubuska.

“Last night to see Hanging Kang hang! Last chance to win a gold by guessing the elf’s exact age! Last chance to see the wild and wooly Centaur!"

Talia ignored the calls of the pitchmen and sideshow barkers, but she did notice a commotion that was occupying at least a dozen or so Gansian city guards. Apparently, someone had let loose four of Pygg Matchet's six performing bears. The Ursine Quartet began their joyous romp on the carnival grounds soon after as people ran and screamed. One bear, "Happy Horst", did not seem so happy when he was seen ripping off one of his "master's", Pygg Matchet's, arms, and swinging it wildly at anyone's approach.

At least they wont be bothering her companions back at the Harpy's Kettle for awhile, Talia smirked, making her way directly towards Loiha’s tent. Maegla followed obediently.

“She’ll be safe here, fear not Talia”, came Loiha’s infectious wink after Talia had explained the situation. “A tailor you say? Well that will do, that will do. As long as you don’t mind a little work, milady?”, Loiha now addressed Maegla. The blind woman quickly indicated that she would welcome honest work, and Loiha nodded, pleased.

“Fando will sho—er, help you to your sleeping chambers. Wont you Fando?” She now looked at her wafer-thin husband.

“Yes dear”, came the languid reply.

“Now”, Loiha said after Fando led Maegla out, crossing her arms in that certain fashion, which Talia knew to mean the jolly woman would not accept a dismissive reply. “What of you, Talia? Fando and I worry.” Somehow Talia doubted Fando was worried about her. She had spent a grand total of twenty minutes, spread across three meetings, interacting with Loiha’s husband.

“Yes, you have your fans, and can look out for yourself”, Loiha went on, “But what will you do, where will you go? You need a life partner too Talia, not like Fando of course… someone…stronger”, she whispered devilishly and winked again (just between us girls). “But you should meet someone nonetheless! Are you certain you wont come with us Bladedancer? Qil’Vanaros would love to have you join the Endless Dream! And Fando and I would too.”

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

Talia was glad to have Maegla safely out of town. She shook her head at Loiha's offer. "The circus has never been something that attracted me. I'm a dancer, but the Endless Dream isn't my place." She considered. "I think I'll stay with my new companions for a while. I've always wanted to see the world, anyway." She sat down. "As for a life partner... I'm not ready for that. It was Konos who really wanted me to marry Ilos. I agreed because he was a second father to me, but neither Ilos nor I was really ready for marriage." She laughed suddenly. "And who knows, maybe I'll find my father too. I don't remember him; it would be nice to meet him."

Aerex bit his lip. He respected his newfound friend the dwarf, respected him enough to maybe even trust him with his plans. But bringing Vorodon along was already a risk; it would be dangerously foolish to involve three people in his plot. The constable stood and stepped closer to Glorden, leaning close to his ear. "I admire your willingness to assist me, brother," he spoke in a low voice. "Under different circumstances, I'd be happy to have you along. But this... this is something I must do. It may be foolishness, but I truly feel the matter be taken up only by those most directly connected. You understand, yes?"

"Of course - 'tis a noble man to know of possible folly and risk but himself. Many of my kin have ventured off to do something they deemed right or wise, and though some of them rest in Morenna's cold embrace, they went by themselves and spare their kin they did. So, see you in the morning - well and sound."

A hearty pat on the back later, Glordren tossed the last piece of the beast into the fire, Glordren turned to the rest of the merry crew: "Ey, before I go off to clean myself and my shinies of this gunk, anyone injured too bad to stand? For after I'm gone, my sole destination is a bed, and I tell you, noone will manage to wake me before dawn!"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"